


What It's Like to be Alone

by Kialish



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kialish/pseuds/Kialish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post movie; Pitch is in misery, alone and with his fears. Jack visits him out of worry. They sort of bond.</p>
<p>Pre-slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	What It's Like to be Alone

Pitch was alone now. Alone, again, and now alone with his own fears. They pestered him night and day, drained his strength, made him wish he would fade away now. But he wouldn’t. Even if most children did not believe in him, some of them did. And, after all, there was always fear in the world. He would never get the chance to die. The wicked never rest.

And so he wandered his own lair, unable to avoid the nightmares that occasionally barreled past or into him, their whinny’s ringing in his ears now. Voices, he could hear voices in the echos that reverberated off the cave walls. ‘You’ll never be believed in’ ‘you’re a failure, Pitch’ ‘stuck under the beds forever’ ‘no one cares about you’.

And they never stopped. Not when he pleaded, or begged, not when he sagged to the ground in defeat and clenched his eyes against the tears. He screamed and yelled, tried to tell himself he was more than that, that the words were lies, but even he didn’t believe himself. So he was alone, bruised and beaten, exhausted, his features far more sunken in than ever before, his form thin, his stance bent over. At least, he thought to himself, he was alone. No one else would see him suffer like this. No one in the world even cared.

But one day, there came a voice. A voice that hurt when it rang over the stone. A voice that was real and not from the nightmares incessant pestering. When he heard it, he faded into the shadows, yellow, weary eyes watching.

“Pitch?” called Jack Frost, the boys lithe form gliding down. His staff was gripped tightly in his hands, his stance squared and wary. But he wasn’t scared. No, Pitch sensed no fear from the young guardian. But there was concern.

Pitch rolled his eyes. No, there was no way the boy could be worried about him. He had destroyed him, pulled him apart limb from limb personally, wounded him when he had dared to open himself up to the winter spirit. He couldn’t possibly care…

“I know you’re in here.” Jack called, pulling down his hood and looking up at the empty cages. A nightmare whinnied as it came trotting down a hall. It looked at Jack before throwing its head and running past him into the shadow Pitch was hiding.

“No!” Pitch yelled as it ran through him, dissipating into the wall. Pitch materialized, sliding onto his knees. He placed a hand on his forehead as he panted, eyes closed as he heard Jack walk closer.

“Are you alri-”

“Why would you care?” Pitch spat before Jack could ask his question. He glared venomously at Jack, fighting his weak knees and standing fully until he towered over the guardian. “You, who personally sent me to my own prison.”

Jack looked away guiltily.

“I was worried,” He muttered.

“Oh, what nice sentiment,” Pitch snarled, nostrils flaring. “Too bad you hadn’t cared earlier, might have saved me from a lot of pain.”

He slid back into the shadows, traveling into one of his many empty cages. He sat on the cage floor, arms crossed as he waited for Frost to leave. Not to his surprise, the brat stayed.

The cage swung slightly as Jack landed on it, frost traveling down the bars partially. Pitch shrugged his shoulders against the cold.

“Go away, Jack,” Pitch said quietly, eyes half lidded and without the biting anger of before. Jack floated into the open doorway.

“Do you really want me to go?” Jack asked. Pitch looked into his eyes, seeing what he remembered from before; understanding.

“I’m so alone, Jack,” He whispered quietly, closing his eyes.

“You don’t have to be,” Jack said, a smile in his voice. Pitch barked a single, cold laugh.

“The last time I tried to have someone join me, I ended up being dragged down underground by my most personal fears— oh wait,” Pitch replied, eyes snapping open and giving Jack an accusatory glare. The gaze softened, though, and he looked away.

Jack was quiet for a moment, before he stepped into the cage, cautiously sitting next to Pitch. The Nightmare King watched curiously out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry,” Jack apologized, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I know what it’s like to be alone, but what you wanted wasn’t what I wanted. If its any consolation, I almost wanted to say yes. You looked so sad…”

“You suffered for 300 years,” Pitch began. “But I’ve been alone for many more. Even when they believed in me, and fear was at its most potent, I was alone. Everyone was afraid.” His face twisted into a dark smile. “And I loved it. I was alone, but the power was more than enough to fix the loneliness. Now I have neither.”

There was more silence between them, then a contact. Pitch froze as he felt an arm around his shoulders. It was unfamiliar, alien to him. A hug? No, it was more of a reassurance. It felt nice…


End file.
